


Labyrinthine Strange

by ravenna_c_tan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-07-29 06:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenna_c_tan/pseuds/ravenna_c_tan
Summary: Five years after their extremely short-lived affair, Harry Potter finds Draco Malfoy trapped in a most unexpected place, the labyrinth at the LeStrange summer mansion. Is Harry prepared to go to some, ahem, rather unusual lengths to free him?





	Labyrinthine Strange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bixgirl1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bixgirl1/gifts).

> Written for the Trope "Under The Influence" for the 2019 H/D Tropes Exchange Fest
> 
> **Author's Notes:** I endeavored to craft this to Bixgirl's request; here's hoping I hit close enough to the mark! She asked for: "Humor and romance and some angst, will bat heart eyes at you for magical theory. Auror partners, falling in love, snark that softens over time, flirting. I like a redeemable Unredeemed!Draco, whose tongue is sharp enough to keep Harry guessing (heh), and a canon sarcastic Harry in return. KISSING, KISSING, KISSING. Wanting each other and being confused/angry about it but unable to stop themselves from going back for more. P I N I N G. A fashionable Draco is yum, and so is when they're forced to trust one another for whatever reason. I prefer them in their early twenties to mid forties, though I do love a good eighth year. Both of them struggling with their feelings and/or what the fallout of their relationship might be, secret relationships are great for that. I'll go wild for anything with loads of UST. Magically powerful Harry and incredibly skilled Draco make me want to leap with joy. Longing, being touch-starved, unexpected warmth."
> 
> **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Well, well, isn't this simply peachy."

A sarcastic voice was the last thing Harry expected to hear in the middle of the Lestrange summer manor's labyrinth, especially _that_ voice. The last time he'd heard it, the tone had been dialed well past sarcasm into scathing...

Which was probably justified, given that they were breaking up at the time.

"Draco?" Harry called, unsure which was more unlikely, that Draco Malfoy would be here in the abandoned labyrinth or that some spell might be triggering him to have flashbacks. Harry looked around him but he could see nothing but gnarled, thorny hedgerows twice his own height curving away from him in several directions.

"Potter," Draco spat. "I take it you can't see me."

"No." The paving stone where the paths crossed under his feet was round and partially covered in moss. This was not much like the labyrinth in the Triwizard Tournament but Harry's mind squirmed uncomfortably away from those memories nonetheless.

His wand was already out, of course: Auror protocol when entering a potentially dangerous situation. Never mind that it was fully against protocol to investigate a potentially dangerous situation _alone,_ but...

"I believe I'm currently invisible."

"Revelio." Harry moved his wand in a circle but the only thing that was revealed was a bit of graffiti scratched into one of the paving stones: RL + NB. "Where are you?"

"Right in front of you, Potter, but then again..." Draco's tone slid into darkly sardonic. "You're not very good at seeing what's right in front of you."

Harry knew he should let the comment go, but he couldn't. "Well, it's not like you presented yourself and said, 'hey Potter, wanna shag' or something."

"Didn't I?"

Harry considered. Their affair had lasted three whole days. Three days of utterly unleashed postwar libido and celebration and catharsis. And then they had come to their senses. Now, five years later, he didn't actually remember all that clearly how it got started--just how it ended: with Draco hurling invective at him.

This wasn't the time to be thinking about that, though. Besides, If Draco could be sarcastic, so could Harry. "Look, it's lovely to catch up with you, but how about we concentrate on counter-hexing you and you can chew me out for being an immature, emotionally stunted teenager later."

"Fine. Counter-hex away."

"That's not helpful." Harry realized he was gripping his wand rather tightly and that his entire face and neck felt quite hot. Draco really knew how to get right under his skin. "How about you tell me what you were doing and how you ended up hexed."

"How about you tell me what you're doing here, first?"

"That's Ministry business."

"Ah, Auror business, you mean? What did the Prophet call you, 'the fastest rising star in the history of Magical Law Enforcement?' Where's your warrant, Potter?"

"I don't need a warrant to investigate abandoned property."

"You should spend more time in the Ministry's Judiciary wing, the Division of Probate in particular," Draco drawled. "Then perhaps you'd know it isn't abandoned."

Harry felt a right prat arguing with the empty air. "Stop toying with me, Malfoy. Just tell me what you're doing here."

"The house and grounds belong to me, now. Or did you forget dear old Bellatrix was my aunt? Funny. I'd sought to move into the Black family townhouse in London but the Department of Records lists it as 'lost.' Someone made it Unplottable years ago and it's never turned up again."

Harry's stomach churned. Draco had to be talking about number twelve, Grimmauld place. Which was Harry's usual base of operations whenever he needed to do anything not fully sanctioned by MLE... like he was doing right now. "Er, how unfortunate. Could we stay focused here, though? How did you end up invisible?"

"It's worse than that," Draco said, his voice seeming to be coming from right behind Harry's right ear. "I must be fully incorporeal. That or you're dead from the waist down."

"What...!" Harry stepped to the side, his hands brushing at the front of his trousers as if he'd spilled lacewing maggots onto himself.

Draco's chuckle seemed to circle him. "Goodness, Potter. Don't overreact. I merely tried to goose your knees. Be careful where you step. I suspect there's an enchanted paving stone that triggers the hex."

"_Now_ you tell me." Harry knew he should be calling for backup, but with Draco there, he was even more reluctant to than before. "Can you tell me where it is?"

"If you take the pathway to your right, it comes to a dead end with a pedestal. It's one of the stones set in front of the pedestal."

Harry turned from his current path down a much narrower one, where the hedges had overgrown their maintenance charms. He emerged into a round bower, so grown over with vines that almost no sunlight reached through. There was just enough light to make out the pedestal Draco had spoken of—wide and flat, made of white stone--marble, maybe? The surface was suspiciously pristine. "I'd call that more of a dais than a pedestal."

"A plinth, then," Draco allowed.

"Fine. A plinth. Weren't you worried when you saw how clean it looks?"

"I don't recall cleanliness being a harbinger of the Dark Arts, Potter."

Harry clenched his jaw. "I just mean... it's suspicious that the rest of the garden is in such disrepair, so overgrown--"

"I knew what you meant, Potter. It made me curious. So I approached it, and that's the last thing I remember."

"Lumos." With his wand lit, Harry could see the pile of robes at the foot of the plinth, as silver-grey as Draco's eyes. He carefully levitated them aside and Draco's wand clattered against the stones. Harry moved Draco's boots—doeskin suede in the identical grey—aside next, and then peered down at the stone on which they had stood. Unlike the rest of the paving stones, it was polished smooth.

"Well? Are your keen Auror detective senses tingling?"

Harry tried to ignore Draco's needling, but it made it hard to concentrate. _What if it really isn't Draco,_ he thought, _and it's some kind of hex on me that makes me hear the voice of self-doubt?_

If that were the case, then he would have to ask himself why the voice of self-doubt for him would be Draco's in the first place.

The way to shut either of them up, of course, was to just do the job. Fine. There was a better sequence of spells to use than a simple Revelio, some of them nearly secret within the Auror Corps. Harry went through them silently, wand swishing and cutting the air quickly. He held in a smile of triumph as the words etched into the smooth stone began to glow.

Unfortunately, the words were in French. "Voila," Draco said drily.

"Please tell me you can read that," Harry said.

"_Quelle chance._"

Harry took that to mean yes, and waited. Here in the labyrinth there was no sound of bees or birds as one would expect in a normal garden. There was only the whistle of the breeze through the thorns.

Draco's chuckle had a dark sound to it.

"Well?"

"I think I know what happened. It's... not as bad as it could be. I think this is not a hex so much as a kind of... game."

"Game?"

"Oh, come on, Potter." Draco tittered again, sounding slightly nervous. "Surely Muggle children play 'Seek and Hide' as well as wizarding ones?"

"Er, 'Hide and Seek' but point taken. So you're saying it's harmless?"

"Well, there is almost certainly a release charm somewhere within the maze, but if you go looking for it, I would worry that you might fall into a similar situation as me, and then we'd both be stuck."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Hang my robes up, for one. And hit them with an Unwrinkling Charm if you would."

Harry waited a beat before saying, "Ha ha."

"I'm serious, Potter. The ground here is quite damp."

"Fine." Harry levitated the robes onto an outstretched branch, then turned his attention back to the too-white plinth. He'd come here in the first place hoping to find a lead of some kind, and this seemed unlikely to be of any help with what he was investigating. Then again, what he was investigating was far from the usual.

He wondered if Draco could be--or would be--any help. He applied a few more spells to the plinth. It seemed safe enough, with two easily recognizable charms still on it--a cushioning charm and one that kept it clean. Pretty innocuous for the Lestranges, unless they used it for blood sacrifices or something... "So, how long have you been living here?"

"Just a few months," Draco said.

"I heard a rumour that you started a potions-by-owl business," Harry said, as he made a careful circuit around the plinth.

"The rumour is true. My parents were of course horrified that I would stoop to the level of the merchant class, as well as unhappy about the fumes wafting through Malfoy Manor. All the more reason for me to vacate the premises. The business was moderately successful at first."

"At first?"

"Well, yes, until the word got out that I was behind it. Seems the majority of the Wizarding populace feel uncertain about trusting a Malfoy with their healing potions. Imagine that." The scathing tone was begining to return.

"Are you still in business?"

"Oh, yes, but I'm reduced to brewing mostly poisons. And a few obscure antidotes."

Normally Harry wouldn't have wanted to know too-too much about that... since it might mean he, as an Auror, would have to do something about it, and Draco would surely take that personally. But it was another thing that made him think Draco might be able to help. If Draco was willing to, that is. "Obscure antidotes, you say?"

"Yes. You'd be amazed how many people take the wrong potion." Draco's voice took on a nasal quality. "'I thought I was taking my prescribed dose of Kallisti's Kolon Kleanse, but the bottles look so similar and it was actually something my granduncle brewed back in the days of Grindelwald, and now my hair's all fallen out and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. Can you help?'"

"They don't just go straight to St. Mungo's?"

"Not when they're afraid the ingredients in granduncle's potion might get them cited for a Dark Arts violation, they don't."

"That's ridiculous! We don't... People won't get a citation for something like that!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! MLE has no interest in pursuing petty violators or accidental inherited objects or potions."

"Tell that to the families of former Death Eaters. You won't make them believe it."

Harry wanted to argue, but he knew, deep down, that Draco was right. He knew there were times when Aurors overstepped their bounds or went out of their way to make former Death Eaters miserable. Some felt those who had survived got off too lightly. Harry knew there was no place for that kind of vigilantism in a just society, but that only made him more committed to trying to be the best Auror he could and to clean up the department from the inside.

Of course, here he was, on his own, without a warrant, doing... what exactly? "I'll make you a deal. If I can get you free of your hex, you'll help me brew an obscure antidote."

"So you can entrap me? I'm not that much of a fool, Potter."

"No no, that's what I mean. If you'll help me do what I need, it'll all be off the record, off the books."

"And if I can't brew you what you want, what then?"

"All I ask is you give it your best shot," Harry said. "Just like I will at getting you free."

Draco's voice was disdainful, so skeptical it was almost issuing a challenge: "Getting me free might be quite complex, and require some unusual lengths on your part."

"I don't break promises, Malfoy." Not even ones blurted out in a fit of post-coital hormones. "If I did, you'd be in Azkaban now."

"I know." Did Draco sound a little contrite? A little. "I'm just... telling you. What you might have to do could be, well, let's just say my relatives lived up to the name Lestrange."

"How dangerous is it likely to be?" Harry asked.

"I think... I think not very... I just--"

"Fine. Do we have a deal?"

"Potter, you may be fully prepared to dive headlong into any situation that comes your way, but some of us prefer at least _a little_ more information about what we're getting into. How about you tell me more about the antidote you need before I agree to anything."

Harry sighed. He supposed there was no getting around this, but--perhaps oddly--he felt he could trust Draco with this information. Perhaps he felt that way because of their brief, past intimacy, and perhaps it was also that he knew Draco would keep quiet about his questionable activities since he would do the same in return. "Fine. I'll tell you why I'm here."

Draco had no snarky reply to that, so Harry went on. "You know there's been a bit of a battle between MLE and the goblins over the contents of certain vaults in Gringotts. The Lestrange vault in particular. We know there are all manner of Dark artefacts in there, but the Ministry lacks the power to just barge into any vault and confiscate at will."

"Ever since Minister for Magic Albert Boot's attempt to do just that in 1748, yes, I know," Draco drawled. "Cut to the chase, Potter. What happened to you in the Lestrange vault?"

"Well, not me, personally, since the goblins won't let me set foot in the bank ever since, um..." Harry felt the heat on his cheeks rising again.

Draco's chuckle was low. "Ever since the 'Dragon Incident?' I thought surely that episode of your biography had to be fictionally aggrandized."

A seven-volume biography of Harry's life had been published a few years back and Harry knew the portrayal of Draco in it probably hadn't helped his former lover/rival any. "There's a lot of rubbish in there, but the dragon part's true," he muttered. "Breaking into Gringotts and escaping on dragonback wasn't exactly my idea of a fun Seventh Year prank!"

"But looking back on it with more mature eyes you realize what a foolhardy adventure it was?"

"What? No! I mean, yes, but..." Harry took a deep breath, trying to get back on track. "That's beside the point. The point is the goblins themselves are the only ones allowed to enter the vaults or remove objects. They were attempting to clean out the Lestrange vault when one of the goblins was accidentally poisoned--or maybe hexed. With goblin physiology it's a bit hard to tell."

"And this is your problem... why?"

Harry felt the blush rise again. "Because they want to keep it quiet and if they go to the Ministry officially it will be... complicated. And because I owe them a rather huge favor."

"And because they'll let you make withdrawals from your own vault in person in the future if you help them out?"

"Well, yes." He tightened his grip on his wand. He hadn't been in the bank in so long he didn't even remember half of what was in his vault. "And also because it's the right thing to do. I came here to look for clues on how to reverse the effects. Larbok seemed to think if I could find the combination to the chest they were moving, and unlock it properly, we might find the formula for the antidote inside."

"Yes, that's a fairly standard sort of security protocol one finds on stuff from the old families," Draco said. "If it can't be found, though, as you say, the goblin's symptoms might be treated with potions, and I could certainly help with that. Potter, we have a deal."

Harry felt a moment of relief. It was the first positive news he'd had since hearing of Larbok being stricken. "Great! Now. Talk me through getting you back to normal."

"All right. If this is the kind of charm I think it is, it isn't meant to cause harm. It's meant to be a... pleasurable experience."

With only the sound of Draco's voice to go on, with no body language or facial expression to read, it was difficult to be sure, but he sounded a little nervous to Harry. "You called it a game earlier."

"A game between two people," Draco continued. "Two adults, I should say. I mean, not a child's game."

"Okay."

"I think the first step to returning me to corporeality is, well, imagine you're touching me."

"Touching you!"

"Merlin's beard, Potter, I knew you didn't really _like_ me, but I thought you liked touching me just fine."

"I, what? I–I like you perfectly well!"

"Perfectly well enough to dump me after three days of buggering me into oblivion."

"Dump you? I did not bloody well dump you. _You_ dumped _me._"

"I assure you I did not. After all, who would ever let such a prize as the Hero of the Wizarding World go?"

"Draco--"

"Ally of the Centaurs, Uplifter of Elves, and The Saviour of all Wizardkind!"

"Draco!" Harry whirled in place, as if he might be able to turn and face that tormenting voice, but Draco remained as insubstantial as before. "I get that you're bitter! I'm sorry! But can you at least wait until I have you back before you tear into me?"

Silence. The suspicion that this was all a hallucination of some kind crept back. He did feel a bit guilty over the way things had gone south between them and at times had vaguely wondered if Draco had felt taken advantage of. Especially at times when the bed felt too large and too cold at night.

_Imagine you're touching me._ It was ironic, he supposed, that it would come to this. He'd imagined touching Draco plenty of times in those five lonely years.

He held out a hand and imagined grasping Draco's fingers, a Seeker's grip grasping a fleeting golden prize so tight--

They both gasped as for a moment Harry felt Draco's hand in his, solid and real, and then he slipped away, leaving Harry clutching at the air. "Draco! Draco, I had you for a moment there."

The voice that returned had a quaver in it, as if Draco had been crying. "Yes, you did, Potter. Yes, you did."

"No, I mean, just now."

"I-I know." There was silence, and then after a bit, Draco went on in a more composed-sounding voice. "That was a good start. It might help if you're on the plinth."

"Oh, good point." The cushioning charm made sense, then. The person being returned to their body might fall down and hurt themselves. Harry bespelled some fairy lights into the vines overhead so he could better see what was happening in their gentle golden glow. He tucked his wand into the arm holster and held both hands out, as if he were running his palms down the planes of Draco's chest.

The first time he'd seen Draco naked had been the second time they'd fucked. The first time had been so hurried, so passionate, that Draco hadn't even taken off his robes. He'd Vanished his trousers, though, that much Harry remembered.

The second time, they'd taken more time. "I remember touching you just like this," he said. "The candlelight was dim, flickering, and your skin glowed like alabaster."

Draco's voice was wry. "You wouldn't know alabaster if you saw it."

"I know beauty when I see it," Harry countered. "I'd never seen you under your robes before. I'd no idea you were that... incredible. I remember... sliding my fingers down and finding your nipples."

Another mutual gasp, as there was contact for another moment. And then Draco was gone again. Harry cursed.

"What else do you remember?"

Harry racked his brain, closing his eyes. "I remember being frustrated I couldn't see you better because of the dim light. But I could hear you, _feel you_, just fine. Once I took my glasses off, I couldn't see particularly well anyway, though."

"You wouldn't want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to? Draco, you're beautiful."

"Because it would force y-- Never mind. Go on."

"One question first before I do. You're the one who made me promise to do whatever it took to get you back, Draco. But I feel like you're... resisting. Is it my imagination?"

"Goodness, I can't imagine why I might be reluctant to be intimate with an ex-lover who nearly killed me once."

"And saved you once!" Harry exclaimed.

"And _I_ saved _you_ once."

"So, you're saying our score isn't even until you've nearly killed me by accident, too?"

"Sectumsempra was not an accident!"

"Yes, it was! Because I didn't know what it was going to do, and I've already apologized for it!" Harry remembered that apology quite clearly. A tearful one. The third time they'd made love, that time Harry had lit the tip of his wand and saw the scars for the first time. His first thought had been that Greyback or maybe even Voldemort himself had left the long mark that ran from Draco's hip to his shoulder, and he'd nearly been sick upon realizing that he'd put it there himself.

That was the time he'd let Draco take charge. Draco had taken him from behind and bit him hard enough on the shoulder to leave a mark that lasted for weeks. Harry felt gooseflesh rise along his spine at the memory of it, pain and pleasure melded into one passionate sensation that had left him gasping and sated in a way he hadn't dreamed possible.

The breakup had come within 24 hours. Maybe his memory of it wasn't as clear as he thought. "Look, I get it. Maybe I'll never be able to make it up to you, Draco, but I've tried. I testified for you in front of the Wizengamot, I saved you from the Fiendfyre, and I... I tried to bridge the gap between us, but maybe that gap is too large to be crossed."

Silence again, unless you counted how loud his heartbeat was in his own ears. Harry found himself straining to listen.

Eventually, though, the voice returned, quietly, from the edge of the plinth. "It's all right, Potter. I'm just... upset at being your damsel in distress again."

"You're not a damsel in distress. You need help, I need help, so we can help each other."

Draco snorted and his sardonic tone returned. "Almost like... allies."

Harry had the feeling that "allies" was not the word Draco had intended, but now wasn't the time to try to decipher the Slytherin's meaning. "Rather. Now, are you ready for me to try this again?"

"Yes. Please."

Harry took off his robe and hung it on the branch next to Draco's, then rolled up his sleeves. He took the wand holster off, as well, and stuck his and Draco's wands into his back pocket. Then he thought better of that plan and instead placed them at one corner of the plinth within easy reach.

He closed his eyes, imagined Draco standing unclothed in front of him, and reached up as if to cup Draco's jaw and pull him into a kiss. The sensation of warmth and the silk of Draco's hair made the hair on the back of his arms rise. His other thumb brushed Draco's cheek and the next thing he knew, he had a mouth full of Draco's tongue, and was breathing Draco's breath.

Draco's arms snaked around him and pulled him closer, and Harry slid his hands down Draco's spine and over his arsecheeks, feeling excitement rising. As well as other parts of them both.

Without breaking the kiss, they fell as one--in slow motion thanks to the cushioning charm--Draco onto his back and Harry rutting against him. Draco's cock felt hard as stone right through his trousers...

And then the shock of impact bruised his lips. Harry's eyes flew open. There was Draco under him, head thrown back in ecstasy and baring his neck, his elbows against the plinth and hips canted upward, a rampant phallus against his stomach. But he was still as a stone. No, he _was_ stone. A statue. "What the bloody hell. Draco? Draco, can you hear me?"

But no voice answered. Harry cursed again and snatched up his wand, returning to the plinth's inscription. What did the bloody thing say? He had never been very good at translation charms, but he tried one.

_Roses are red, until they turn brown_  
_Too bad your love is now turned to stone_

Harry blinked. He was pretty sure that was nothing like what had appeared there before. He reversed his spell and was staring at the French words again. "Accio French-English dictionary."

A few moments later a large book crashed through the vines overhead, leaving a bright sunbeam in its wake. The dictionary must have come from the house given how quickly it had arrived. Harry caught it with his free hand and began to flip through. No, that was definitely not the French word for "rose" which was, apparently, "rose." He tried looking the words up one at a time, but it quickly became apparent this was not going to give him a precise enough meaning to be helpful in reversing Draco's condition.

_What if his condition's permanent?_ asked a nagging voice in his head. He much preferred Draco's sarcasm to the actual voice of doubt.

He tried the translation spell again. This time the couplet read:

_The heroes of old feared Medusa_  
_For they lacked the finesse to seduce her_

What in the world... "Draco? Is that you changing the inscription?" He tried a third time to translate the words and once more a new message appeared:

_You'll get nowhere using the rocks in your head_  
_Try the ones down below instead_

Harry felt his testicles involuntarily tighten. Was that Draco telling him he was stupid and only good for one thing? Or was it a clue to what he had to do to free him?

He needed more information. Well, there was one witch in England he knew he could trust and who could read French... He sent his Patronus off to find Fleur Delacour and then turned his attention back to Draco.

He sat beside the statue, reaching out to touch Draco's taut stomach. In the sunbeam he could see the brilliant white stone had a grey vein running up Draco's torso: the Sectumsempra scar. Harry traced it with his fingers, then couldn't help but trail them over the finely formed phallus. His own arousal was still at a high pitch despite the sudden turn of events. Five years had passed, but there was no doubt the erotic attraction between them had still been there...

And would still be, Harry thought, if he could return Draco to flesh. There had to be a way.

But there was no way he could involve MLE in this. Draco wouldn't stand for the humiliation, for one thing. And Harry had already broken far too many regulations getting to this point.

He was still sitting there an hour or two later, trying out various charms to no avail and contemplating his options, when Fleur's owl arrived. He took a rubbing of the original inscription--at least he hoped it was the original--and sent it off, and perhaps another hour later the bird returned with her message:

_Dearest Harry,_

_I am so happy to help. The words mean the following: _

_Step up, my love, and prove yourself pure_  
_Turn not your heart to stone_  
_Flesh to flesh, heart to heart, soul to soul. _

_It is written in the cadence of a type that was common in courtship poetry of 17th century France. These poems are often used as incantations during bonding ceremonies, as well. It could be referring to blood purity but I think it more likely a poetic reference to faithfulness or honesty. Let me know if you need anything else. _

Her name was signed in flowery script below.

Well, that didn't really illuminate things very much, other than to seemingly corroborate Draco's assertion that this wasn't meant to be dangerous exactly... _And that's what he meant by a game for adults,_ Harry realized. Maybe the Lestranges tested their girlfriends' blood purity this way? But Draco's blood was as pure as it got and he was still turned to stone.

Harry tried everything he could think of to free Draco that day. He tried incantations and counter-hexes and even looked up whether a potion could do it. But eventually he had to admit he needed more information. He couldn't bring Hermione into this. He needed someone who could keep this discreet, who wouldn't use it against Draco somehow--or against Harry himself, for that matter. Preferably someone with some familiarity with the kinds of spells and charms the Lestranges might have used.

The sun was setting and he was starting to despair when he realized there was one person who might be highly motivated to help. He draped Draco's robes over his midsection for modesty's sake, covered him with a safety charm or two for good measure, and then went up to the manor to send two owls, one to Gringotts, and one to Malfoy Manor.

* * * *

At midnight Narcissa Malfoy Apparated to the entrance of the labyrinth. A full moon overhead made her hair look silver in the light, a contrast to her very black robes. "Mr. Potter," she said, upon seeing Harry standing there.

Harry hadn't seen her since his testimony about her actions at Hogwarts on the fateful day Voldemort had been defeated. She had defied Voldemort, deceived him, all to give Harry a chance to save Draco, so he'd been reasonably sure she'd help him now. "Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for coming. I didn't know who else to turn to."

She looked him up and down, as if measuring his worth, then turned and looked at the dark hedgerows looming above them. "Well, I hoped I'd never have to set foot in this place again."

"Again?"

"Yes. And the risk to my son is about the only thing that could compel me to. But I think I have the answer to your mystery." She lit her wand. "Show me where he is."

"This way," Harry said, leading her into the maze. He'd strewn fairy lights all along the path to the plinth so that he couldn't become lost, but they faded more quickly than usual. Something in the labyrinth's magic, he supposed. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you much detail in my owl but I--"

"I appreciate your discretion," she said, cutting across him sharply and taking the lead. "But I know exactly what is going on."

"Care to enlighten me?" He kept his eyes ahead, making sure to keep to the middle of the path as he followed her dark silhouette deeper into the maze.

"Rabastan Lestrange took a fancy to me when we were young," she said. "The labyrinth was traditionally a place that, well, young purebloods could disappear into for a bit of, shall we say, unsupervised time together? But Rabastan had rather dark designs on me."

"Er, um, how dark?"

"You'll see," she said. Then she gasped as they entered the bower. "Oh my Draco!"

"Careful!" Harry warned. "There's a--"

"I know, Potter!" she snapped, sounding so very much like her son in that moment. "This isn't my first time here."

She sent a new round of illumination charms into the branches overhead, a series of sparkling silver spheres that cast everything in sharp relief, the brightness erasing the shadows from the statuesque form on the plinth. Then she turned to face Harry, her eyes narrow. "The charm is rather insidious. I confess I am not sure if you can help."

"Try me," Harry said.

Narcissa took a calming breath. "Very well. Imagine being a young, angry wizard who feels you are entitled to any witch you want. Imagine thinking that it makes sense to test her. If she will give herself to you wholeheartedly, well, then all is well and both your courtship and illicit lovemaking may proceed as planned."

"And if she won't?"

"Then, as the inscription implies, if she harbors any resistance, then she is 'made of stone.'"

"You're saying Rabastan Lestrange wanted to make you a statue in his garden?"

"Indeed, he did."

Harry felt a prickle across his shoulders. "He... wanted to?"

"I mean he succeeded, Mr. Potter." Narcissa's face was inscrutable in the silver light. "This is how I know that Draco is still alive and that it is possible for him to be freed."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Then how do we free him?"

"He can be returned to flesh and blood by the power of physical desire." Her inflection remained flat, but her face twisted into a distasteful frown.

Harry's heart, though, leapt at the suggestion. "Meaning... I--or someone--could, um, arouse him somehow?"

Narcissa measured him with her eyes again. "It is a complex spell. One that would allow the wizard who wove it to arouse the subject of his lust, satisfy himself upon her flesh, and then return her to a stone slumber if he chose."

"That's horrifying!" Much worse than merely being turned to stone.

"You were under the impression that the Lestranges were saints?" Narcissa cocked an eyebrow at him. "And you, Harry Potter? How did it come to be _you_ here with my son at this moment, in these circumstances?"

Harry found himself tongue-tied for only a moment before his confession poured forth. "I assure you, I have no, how did you put it... dark designs on Draco. I just want to help. He lives here now, you know?"

"I know he lives here, Mr. Potter. What I meant is how did you come to be in a position to trigger the spell in the first place?"

Harry was very aware of her wand in her hand. Her tone was mild but the sharpness of her gaze said that she had no qualms about hurting him if he had hurt Draco. And for this to have happened, Draco had to be resisting Harry's advances somehow.

"Draco and I had a... a... dalliance, I suppose you could call it, right after the war. Then he broke it off. Or, maybe we both did. I don't know. We weren't ready to face some things yet, I guess."

Her eyebrow merely arched harder.

"I promised him that I'd keep you and him out of Azkaban."

"Did my son extract this promise from you after seducing you?"

"What? No! It was my idea. I offered it of my own free will. And I kept that promise, even though we split up."

"So you did." She seemed to relax fractionally. "I always wondered. I suspected he'd taken a lover but I never expected it to be you." Her gaze traveled over the alabaster form of her son. "I think Draco has been trying to escape from who he is. He moved out of Malfoy Manor and 'set up shop' here in a bid for independence."

"So I gathered from what he told me."

"My question for you, Harry Potter, then, is are you willing to do for Draco what is necessary to free him?"

"I promised him I would."

"You spoke with him?"

"Before he turned to stone, he was incorporeal and we could speak. He walked me through how to conjure him into physical form."

She nodded in sudden understanding. "Yes, that's how it would work, until the one... or someone who desired him came along."

"It's really lucky that I came here, then," Harry said, wiping his brow. "Or who knows how long he might've been stuck."

Narcissa gave him a curious look then. "Yes," she said drily. "Lucky."

"Anything else I need to know to complete the spell and free him?" Harry asked.

"I know it takes some manifestation of your desire to be transferred physically to the stone to begin the process," she said. "As for how to finish it, I assume it should still work between two wizards. Recall that the one who was frozen into stone would only be freed if she quote-unquote 'stopped resisting.'"

"You mean you had to declare you loved him or something like that?"

She considered. "I don't know if that would work since I could never bring myself to say it. Rabastan was a rather base creature, though, and the spell built around his rather limited understanding of witches, and perhaps of people in general."

"So what are you saying?"

"To put it bluntly, Mr. Potter, I believe if you can get him to climax, you should be home free."

Harry wondered if the blush on his cheeks were visible in the silver glow of her illumination spell. "I, um, I'm certainly willing to try."

"Then, assuming you would prefer privacy for this, I shall leave you to it." She turned to go, but paused at the pathway. "One other thing. He can hear everything you say while he's in stone. I assume that he's heard every word we've said. Please do me the courtesy of an owl when it is over? I can't count on Draco himself contacting me. I miss him terribly, but I respect his choices."

"I'll send word," Harry said. "Thank--"

She had Disapparated before he could say more, taking her glowing globes with her and plunging Harry into shadow once more.

Harry sent a new swarm of fairy lights into the air. They hovered over the plinth and made the marble form of Draco look almost warm. Almost.

He sat beside him. "Well, I guess it's up to me now. I've thought about you a lot, you know. I've often wondered if I should owl, but I always convinced myself you wouldn't want to hear from me. I suppose... I suppose I should have anyway, but I was afraid of rejection."

He wondered if it were really true that Draco could hear him, but decided it didn't matter. Confession was good for the soul. "I can almost hear you now, taunting me, saying, _what? I thought the great Harry Potter wasn't afraid of anything._ But the truth is it's easy to be fearless when what you are facing is Death Eaters or dragons or even just plain death. It's a lot harder when the thing you fear is that no one will ever really love you for who you are. When you fear being alone.

"Ron and Hermione have each other. They've got parents who love and support them, too. But I broke it off with Ginny because after that initial blush of teenage hormones wore off... being together just felt obligatory. Was my fear of being alone reason enough to trap her in a marriage without passion? I didn't think so." He'd barely admitted that to himself before, but saying it out loud seemed to solidify his thoughts.

"And sure, there are dozens of willing partners out there, hundreds maybe, all of whom have stars in their eyes when the see the 'famous Harry Potter.'" He laughed bitterly to himself. "With you, at least, I know that isn't the case! But that's why I turn down all but the most important ministry ceremonies and invites to Hogwarts reunions. The fawning just makes me feel even lonelier. Just makes me... wish I'd gotten to know you better instead."

He started unbuttoning his shirt. "I just wish there was some way to be sure you actually wanted this. What your mother said... ugh. I don't want to put you in the position where you feel obligated to... to... let me have my way. Now or ever. You know that was part off what broke us up, right? The thought that you didn't really want me, that you just needed me for political reasons, so you let me take advantage of you."

He let the shirt fall and stood to undo his belt buckle. "But like your mother said... She wanted to know if you seduced me. I told her no. What I didn't tell her was that I was afraid I'd taken advantage of you to begin with. And if I'm being honest with myself, when I pushed you away it was because I was afraid of that. Not of you, not of being in a relationship with you. I wasn't afraid of your father and what he'd say--though maybe you were. I get the feeling that's not an issue for you now."

He slipped out of his shoes and then his trousers and pants, and stepped up onto the plinth in nothing but his bare skin. "Another thing your mother said has me thinking, though. My my, it was lucky that I was the one who found you here, wasn't it? What a huge coincidence. But the more I think about it, the more I realize... you might have engineered things to steer me here."

He slid Draco's robes aside to reveal the gorgeous figure, still captured in a moment of passion. "Of course, that's the kind of thing people delude themselves over all the time. Rabastan Lestrange probably convinced himself the witches he lured here led him on. But I'm pretty sure you were really kissing me back quite enthusiastically before this happened."

Harry ran his hands over the smooth stone curve of Draco's shoulders and down the plane of his chest. "I guess I should have asked for more details from your mom, but I really couldn't bring myself to. I'm not sure exactly how this is supposed to work but why don't we try this." He made an O of his thumb and forefinger and slipped his foreskin up and down his own shaft until his breath was short and a single clear droplet of fluid had gathered at the tip.

He took it up on a finger and smeared it over the head of the statue's stone phallus...

Which sprang to life in his hand. The rest of Draco remained marble--or whatever, Draco had been correct that Harry didn't know alabaster from alpine cheese--but Harry slid his palm over the suddenly very hot, just-as-hard cock jutting upward. He worked it in one fist while doing the same to himself with the other, but no more of Draco came to life. He straddled Draco's legs and wrapped his hands around their two cocks together. The sensation was incredible, but the rest of Draco remained stone still.

Harry shifted his position, sliding his palms up Draco's rock hard abs until he could take the head of Draco's cock in his mouth. The flavor was salty and savory as Draco's own precome began to flow.

Underneath him he could feel Draco's legs were still stone, but he could feel the spell was beginning to reverse. Harry's thumbs tracked up Draco's torso to his nipples and found them gratifyingly soft! They hardened anew at his touch and a moment later Harry felt Draco's hands in his hair, urging him to take the cock in his mouth deeper.

He tried to comply, to take Draco all the way into his throat, but it was too much. He gagged and had to pull back to cough, but he'd barely recovered his breath when Draco's lips met his. He felt himself pressed back against the cushioning charm and opened his eyes to see a flesh-and-blood Draco a few inches from his face.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to catch on," Draco said.

"You mean I was right? This was all a setup?" Harry grinned and wrapped his legs around Draco's. "You had a lot of faith in me."

"I had faith that your Slytherin side would eventually out." Draco ground his hips, making his cock slide along Harry's.

"What Slytherin side? I told you that biography's rubbish..."

"Don't play dumb with me, Potter. We're not the only ones who had a postwar fling, remember? Hermione told Pansy the Sorting Hat almost sent you to us."

Harry gasped as Draco's teeth grazed the sensitive areas of his neck. "Yeah, well, after the war a lot of people said a lot of things you can't believe."

"Care to tell me which of the things you said I should take at face value, then?" Draco took hold of their two cocks in one hand and stroked slowly. "Or was it my own statements you are taking issue with?"

"How about we just forget everything we said when we were freshly traumatized and start over?" Harry could barely keep his hips still and pumped upward into Draco's grip. "Truth is I barely remember anything that was said, anyway."

Draco clucked his tongue. "No wonder your biography's rubbish, then..." He had a small, warm smile, though, that Harry had never seen before.

"You took a big chance, depending on me to figure this out, Slytherin side or no," Harry said, cupping Draco's arse and encouraging him to rut against Harry. "What if I hadn't been willing?"

Draco stopped moving, pinning Harry in place with both his hands and a dead serious gaze. "If you decided I wasn't worth redeeming, I figured I would be better off as a statue. Or a disembodied spirit. Living in isolation isn't living."

Harry's heart felt as if a fist were squeezing it. "I agree."

"Oh, come now, you have your Auror corps, your work..."

"And I go home at the end of the day like some sort of recluse," Harry said.

"Which is why I had to resort to this," Draco said. "There was no way to arrange a casual meeting with you."

"I don't do casual," Harry said.

"In sex and relationships, you mean," Draco said, the smile returning. "Your wardrobe, on the other hand..."

"I'm serious," Harry said.

"So am I," Draco replied. "So what are you saying, you don't want just another fling?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying. I want to try, Draco. I want to know you. And I'm not afraid to let you know me."

Draco licked his lips. "You're not just saying that so I'll let you play hero?"

Harry pushed Draco onto his back and kissed him, luxuriating against that silken mouth for long moments before he spoke again. "You think I'm just saying it so you won't resist and the spell will let you go?" He brushed his lips against Draco's, drawing a gasp out of him, teasing with mouth and tongue-tip, and then devouring him again. Harry tried to say everything through the kiss, putting every iota of his desire and his passion into it, until he had to pause for breath. "How about you let me make you come right now, and then you can ask me again once you're free."

Draco's gaze looked nearly as soft as his mouth, now, hazy and debauched. "All right. I like--"

"I remember what you like," Harry said, rolling Draco onto his stomach. "I learned this charm from you."

He dragged his wand between Draco's arsecheeks to tease him, then inserted the tip to let the lubrication charm flow. His own cock went from hard to positively straining when Draco gasped. Harry set his wand aside and explored Draco with his fingers, massaging his buttocks and then swiping a thumb through the now-dripping slippery wetness. When he worked his thumb inside, Draco made a hungry sound.

No hungrier than Harry himself was feeling. After fucking Draco with his thumb to loosen him up, he was all the more impatient to move on to the real thing. He positioned himself, rubbing his cock up and down to coat it with the slickness before centering the head against Draco's hole. He intended to tease, to say something clever, to prolong the moment before penetration...

But Draco had other ideas and thrust himself up and back, impaling himself on Harry. Only through supreme force of will did Harry keep himself from coming right then, reminding himself that it was Draco's orgasm that was the more important goal right now.

He reached around, taking hold of Draco's cock with his slick hand, and slowly stroking him in time with a long thrust. Draco's groan was pure aphrodisiac.

"I want to make this last forever," Harry heard himself say. "But I think we had best get out of this maze before any other Lestrange kinks come to the fore." He began to thrust and stroke more quickly, bouncing against his own rhythm, until he was slapping loudly against Draco's hindquarters.

"Oh, fuck, Potter--"

"Harry. It's Harry, Draco."

"Harry! Harrryyy!" Draco cried as he began to come, the slickness against Harry's hand suddenly hot. Harry felt the spell crackle around them, a surge of power that almost made him come himself. But he held back.

"Draco, grab your wand. Apparate us out of here."

Draco arched and groaned, still in the throes of his orgasm, but he reached out a hand and did as Harry asked. They tumbled onto a large bed, jostled apart by the landing, and in a nonce Harry found himself flattened under Draco. Draco's mouth sought his hungrily once again and he let himself sink into the bed as he lost himself in Draco's kiss.

He opened his eyes when Draco reared up on his knees, wand in hand, his face lit with a fierce joy. Above him Harry could see the ornately wood-paneled ceiling and the fairy lights circling him like a halo. Draco whispered a charm and then threw his head back. Harry saw Draco's cock rise again quickly, then threw his own head back as Draco reached behind him and stroked Harry's erection.

Draco pressed himself down until Harry was fully sheathed in him once more. "Now," Draco said. "Let's do this properly."

"Yes," Harry said between gasps of intense pleasure, "let's."

Draco rode him long and hard, and Harry loved looking up to see Draco's jaw clench as he neared orgasm, only to slow the pace and back away from the climax again and again. When he couldn't stand it anymore, though, he took hold of Draco's cock and began to pump furiously, almost like he would his own during a fantasy-wank about-- well--exactly this sort of thing.

It was just as effective, too, causing them both to come suddenly, convulsively, until Draco collapsed in a shuddering heap atop him.

When the aftershocks had slowed and Harry felt like he could breathe again, he found his fingers were laced in Draco's hair and Draco's face was buried against his neck. The rest of Draco was utterly boneless. Harry shifted, rolling Draco onto his side, and finding his mouth for another long kiss.

It was uncanny, really, how Draco's kisses tasted different at different times. Before sex they were tinged with a spicy electricity, during they held a savory heat, and afterward they were almost unbearably sweet in their softness. Had they always been that way and Harry had forgotten? How had he ever borne the loss of this?

He drew back to look at Draco's face, to look him in the eye. "Do you believe I truly want you now?"

Draco reached up and traced the spot on Harry's forehead where the scar was fading. "I do. Do you believe you're not taking advantage of poor me?"

"I do." Harry leaned over to kiss Draco's collarbone, where the sectumsempra scar ended. "I owe your mother an owl to let her know you're all right."

"And I owe one to Larbok to tell him he can stop pretending to be poisoned."

But neither of them wanted to move. They snuggled together under the covers. Owls could wait until morning.

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [H/D Tropes Exchange Fest 2019,]() posting August & September 2019! Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it!"


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